Puzzles
by Lucky Dice Kirby
Summary: Everyone's got faults. Dolls don't count. ‹topher›‹gen›


It's all too easy, Topher thinks sometimes, because it _is_, it's all just too damn easy. Creating the imprints, wiping the Dolls, it shouldn't be this _simple_. And it isn't simple, really, it's long and complicated and most people can hardly begin to understand it, 'most people' being people who aren't him or (sometimes) Ivy. Or even if they do understand it, or think they understand it enough to convince themselves as well as others, like DeWitt, they couldn't ever even begin to wrap their minds around how absurdly intricate the whole thing is. Couldn't see how everything has to fit together perfectly, like a thousand piece puzzle when all you have is the shape of the end result, and no idea how to get there.

But even despite all that, it's not really _hard_. Painstaking, yes, and he has to pay attention to every little detail because if he doesn't, the Active'll glitch and then DeWitt and Dominic will be pissed and Topher'd rather keep them at a safe distance, it's easier that way. (He's found that in life, keeping his distance is usually the easiest thing to do. He'd rather stay in and work on his easy easy imprints and send Ivy out to get him lunch, regardless of what time it actually is, wondering when she'll finally be fed up and quit. His quick wit and considerable charm can only really go so far.)

It makes him feel a bit like God, sometimes. Is this was God felt like, creating people? In his image, supposedly, but Topher feels that's a bit egotistical of him (or Him, Topher guesses, but he's never been religious), really, so does that make him _better_ than God, more modest? Topher can go with that, just fine, though God wouldn't have a bunch of administrative hacks ordering him about all the time. Lucky bastard.

But it's just that. Just. Well. It's scary, in a way. If it's so easy for him to do this, then what does that mean for the world, huh? It isn't so far-fetched, not really, that someday everybody might become a Doll, even him, everyone having tailored personalities that fit perfectly, so that all the people in the world became nothing more than cogs running in a well-oiled machine.

He doesn't mind that the Dolls have had their identities taken away, but the thought of it happening to_him_ scares him more than anything (And he would wonder if that made him selfish, except that of course it does. Everyone has their faults.)

Some people would call him paranoid, be he's _not_. It's entirely possible, and for all he knows that's what the Dollhouse is planning to do, and he's helping them. Maybe someday there won't be such a thing as 'free will', and it'll be all his fault.

At least there would be no one to blame him for it.

Sometime he thinks that it would be best for all involved if he retired to, what, farm sheep in Wales, that's what people do, don't they? It's a silly idea, anyway, stupid, really, because, come on. As if the Dollhouse would ever let him quit. Topher doesn't have any illusions about that. He'd be sent to the attic for sure, or turned into a Doll himself, and he'd never make it out of the city, let alone within even a mile of a sheep.

And there's another thing, too: Topher doesn't think he could quit. He likes his job, he likes running the simulations, compiling the imprints, searching the archives for just the right bit of personality to slot everything in place. It's the most fascinating puzzle he's ever been given, the only one he couldn't figure out within minutes and be able to do right every time after, because it's always changing. The parameters are never the same, there's always something new to consider, and why doesn't anybody else understand how _beautiful_ it all is?

He tried to explain it to Ivy, once, but she didn't get it, not at all. She just shook her head and ignored it as one of his stranger tangents, and asked him to explain some aspect of this or that again. She's a good apprentice, yes, she's smart, and she puts up with all his bullshit, which impresses Topher; all the other apprentices he's had quit within days, or requested a transfer. But despite that all, she just doesn't get it. Topher's the only one who does, and even if he wanted to he couldn't leave it for a second. It might scare the crap out of him when he thinks about what could happen, it might occur to him that he should feel guilty, at least a little, he might get those looks from Boyd and feel a pang of something, but he could never, ever stop. Maybe this is what addiction feels like. (He's tried his fair share of drugs, but nothing could ever keep his interest for more than a little while.)

It makes him selfish, he knows, it makes him a goddamned monster (like King Kong but more wimpy looking), and he thinks it might be even worse that he doesn't particularly care, because what _is_ he doing to people? But, hey. We all have our faults, right?


End file.
